Requiem
by Kari and KyonKyon
Summary: Fate has provided Dumbledore with all too many opportunities to see threstals. Yet one memory among them stands alone, found only within the confines of his Pensieve: a tragic tale of two doomed friends who sought to conquer destiny . . .


__

Back where dragons burn the land, 

Back where magic is a sin, 

A distant requiem resounds, 

Floating softly in the wind.

The singer's tongue is foreign,

But the tale is comprehended, 

For the tune is ever timeless,

Due to fate that must be mended.

For two friends who live to meet, 

But must only meet to part.

A fine science of demise 

Turned into a dreadful art.

For upon the pair's encounter,

Their ill fortune is renewed, 

And too precious are the moments,

Before Death collects his dues.

Yet they cannot bear their lives alone,

Though often they have tried.

So they live for but a moment,

Wherein joy is petrified. 

One short moment fraught with mirth,

For each lifetime filled with pain,

But a glimmer of a rainbow 

Following a drenching rain.

And yet still they dare to hope, 

That there may one day be an end,

Where their destiny is overcome . . .

And they may just be friends . . . 

****

Requiem

Fire licked the edges of her vision, flickering menacingly as it crept closer and closer to her fear widened eyes. The very air shimmered as the heat rapidly grew more intense, and against her will tears started spilling down her cheeks. Dimly in the back of her mind, a great anger began to simmer, to boil, to rise up. _This was all Bolduney's fault . . ._

Caelana blinked. As the familiar Hogwarts hallway snapped into place in front of her eyes, she gradually became aware of a great protest from the people behind her. Belatedly, she realized she was standing stock-still in the middle of the busy passageway, and with a hasty apology, she stepped out of the students' way. Grumbling loudly about daydreaming idiots, they brushed rudely past her, some shooting her irritated glances, others grudgingly curious looks. She hardly took notice of their derisive behavior, however. 

What had just happened? She had just been hurrying down the hallway to Muggle Studies (in order to ensure herself a front row seat) when enormous flames had exploded in front of her. Yet, as she surveyed the expanse of carpet and wood before her, her back pressed firmly against the wall, neither a single thread nor particle of the material seemed to be charred or even singed. Strangely, though, none of the now passing students seemed to be aware of this amazing marvel. In fact, to be brutally honest, there appeared to be absolutely no sign that anything in any way out of the ordinary had happened at all. It was as if the entire towering inferno had been but a very vivid figment of her imagination . . .

"Hey, you okay?" A faintly lilting alto voice softly pierced her reverie.

Looking up slowly, Caelana's piercing blue eyes met a twin pair of liquid brown ones. They belonged to a dark brunette slightly shorter than her, whom she vaguely thought she might have seen in some of her classes with Ravenclaws. The same girl was now watching her with some visible concern.

"You okay?" she repeated, shifting her weight uncomfortably under the aching pressure of her knapsack. "You just kind of . . . spaced out in the middle of the hallway there and started crying. Is . . . something wrong?"

Startled, Caelana's hand flew to her cheek. Sure enough, upon the soft curve little rivulets of tears seemed frozen in place, the clear salty liquid faintly warm to her touch. Almost as if in a trance, she slowly drew her hand away, gazing numbly at the moisture upon her fingertips before dropping her arm dully like lead to her side.

Tears. Warm, unaccountable tears. Streaming down her own face without any knowledge by herself of the fact. The day had gone from slightly odd to truly bizarre.

Obviously growing increasingly uneasy by her lack of verbal response, the Ravenclaw brunette blurted, "Look, you have Muggle Studies next too, right? C'mon, I'll take you there." Vainly attempting to crack a smile, she added, "If we don't hurry, we'll get it from Professor Tlucco, and you know how _she_ gets." Grabbing her wrist abruptly, the surprisingly strong girl dragged her awkwardly down the hallway. 

Unable to gather her wits quickly enough to reply, Caelana didn't protest, but only gazed blankly out onto the waterlogged grounds as they passed a long row of distinctly misty windows. What on earth was going on?

* * *

"And for preparation on Tuesday, please complete the first half of Chapter 14: An Exploration of Muggle Literature, and take notes. There is no written assignment to be turned in, but extra credit is, as always, available upon request," Professor Tlucco intoned, closing her primer with a dull thud. Her eyes holding a very unscholarly peevish look indeed, she commented sourly, "Something _some_ of you could certainly use if you are still entertaining any hope of passing this year." 

A few brave souls nervously tittered at this, but the unfamiliar sound was rapidly stifled in the stagnant air of the room. Surveying them critically for a few moments as they hastily packed their textbooks and quills inside their bags, Professor Tlucco took a deep, raspy breath before continuing, in a half-hearted attempt at cheerfulness, "However, I am also giving you an assignment I believe you may find quite to your liking."

Caelana groaned along with several of her classmates. No assignment of Tlucco's was _ever_ preceded by such a sentence and found to be fun. 

Seemingly quite unaware of their reaction, Tlucco continued brightly, "You and a partner of your choice will together research and explore an prevalent aspect of Muggle literature found in the past millennium. You will then each compose for me an thorough essay of at least three feet upon the subject and a comprehensive presentation to share your findings with the class. The paper shall be due next Friday and we shall commence the presentations the same day. Are there any questions?"

No words were uttered, but the answering groans that followed somehow managed to pierce through the classroom's murky atmosphere to reach even the oblivious Professor Tlucco, who immediately swelled up to her fullest height, looking highly offended. "What are all of you whining about? I'm giving you a choice for your partner _and_ for your subject." Her eyes narrowed. "Would you prefer it if I assigned both to you?"

The steel in her voice warned all of them from making any statement to the contrary, even Caelana, who in her mind rather wished she _would_ assign both.

Apparently satisfied by their lack of response, Tlucco deflated slightly, and, with an oddly twisted smile, announced gaily, "Well then, you can use the rest of the class to pick out your partner and get a headstart on your project! Wands away – no magic is to be used, please – and keep your voices _down_!" Wounded pride obviously mended, she sat once again down behind her desk and quickly busied herself grading papers.

Dejectedly, Caelana sank into her seat. Great. The one class where she didn't know anybody well enough to do a massive project together had to be precisely the one in which she got one. Muggle Studies had sunk to an all-new low.

Sighing in resignation and debating whether or not to ask Tlucco if the project could be done individually, she was about to begin the reading assignment when she felt a gentle tap upon her shoulder. Stiffening almost immediately, she firmly shut her eyes in irritation, and, resisting the urge to sigh again – much more loudly this time – slowly turned around. Perhaps another one of the Hufflepuff girls was now attempting to be her "friend." Naturally, in order to be freed of the majority of the work. The entire house knew by now that Caelana couldn't stand seeing homework done improperly, and if left accordingly to her own devices would indeed do the entire project on her own. She'd lost all count of the number of times they'd blatantly exploited her perfectionism. Nonetheless, she pasted a small smile on to hide her seething resentment, and, opening her eyes, faced the offending student.

Her mouth fell open in a manner she normally would have disdainfully labeled as uncouth. It was the Ravenclaw student from earlier, looking slightly apprehensive at the reaction she had apparently caused. Perplexed and the least bit curious, Caelana rapidly closed her mouth and hesitantly smiled before inquiring, "Yes?"

Seemingly feeling more at ease now that her subject had spoken at least once, the girl asked conversationally, "Do you have a partner yet?"

Her smile fading, Caelana replied, a bit guardedly, "No." 

The girl, apparently not noticing the sudden change, continued blithely, "Can I be yours then?"

Caelana surveyed her coolly for several long moments. She didn't trust too many people; they had taken advantage of her too often for her to be naturally trusting. Still, the look in the girl's eye _was_ friendly, and genuinely so. She didn't _seem_ to have an ulterior motive . . . "Sure," she said finally.

The girl's face broke into an enormous smile. "Great! I'm Nevana, by the way. Nevana Hitori," she added, offering her hand.

Caelana took it warmly. "Caelana Dirndl. Nice to meet you, Nevana."

"You too." Nevana sat down in the by now abandoned seat beside her. "So what kind of theme do you want to do the project on?"

"Well . . ." Caelana considered for a few moments. "There are a lot of aspects we could choose from, but . . ."

"But?" Nevana prompted.

"But I think it'd be rather fun to do something on fate or destiny," she finished.

Nevana nodded excitedly. "That's what I was thinking too. It'd be better than doing lost innocence or simplified justice or something dry like that, at any rate."

"Very true. So when do you want to meet tomorrow in the library?" Caelana queried.

"Tomorrow?" Nevana's face fell. "But tomorrow's a Hogsmeade weekend!"

Caelana's own countenance darkened. "We've got to get started on it early or we'll never mange to finish it during the week," she argued.

Nevana frankly stared at her tight expression. "You don't get out much, do you?" A stony silence was her only response. She studied her for a more few moments and then shook her head, smiling. "Okay, okay, like I'm one to talk. Still, let's have a compromise. How about we meet each other at Hogmeade tomorrow morning, where we can talk about the project and even do some brainstorming if you want _and_ still manage to have some fun. Then on Sunday we can meet together in the library and get some serious work done. Deal?"

The look in her brown eyes was so winningly pleading, Caelana even smiled despite herself. 

"Deal."

* * *

"But aren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be the _hard_-working ones?" Nevana said dubiously.

"The Hat never exactly specified at _what_ precisely Hufflepuffs were supposed to work hard," replied Caelana dryly.

Nevana laughed, a cheerful twinkling sound. "Man, you should have been in _my_ house. All of my year is the same: snappish prigs who _insist_ on commandeering every project they're given. What's really amusing is when you put two of them on the same one. Neither one trusts the other to do any work, and so both of them get angry and try to take over the project. Eventually, the bickering between them becomes so bad that they completely stop talking to each other, and only send reports through an dually approved and appointed messenger. And then in the end, when the nearly forgotten project is finally due, the two of them end up turning in exactly twice the amount asked because, in the lack of communication, they both did the entire project themselves!" She chortled, laughing still harder.

Caelana laughed easily along with her. She and Nevana had met up about an hour ago at the school entrance and hadn't seemed to be able to shut up since. Normally, Caelana found it an effort to keep up a conversation for so long, but with Nevana it just seemed natural, almost as if they had known each other for years. 

"But still, I swear," Nevana continued. "I _swear_ this is the year I will convince my parents to let me drop Muggle Studies."

"You don't like it?" Caelana teased, putting a hand to her mouth in mock horror.

She gave her a half-lidded glare. "No, really, I _enjoy_ sitting in the middle of the mindless stupor of inanity otherwise known as a classroom, where the atmosphere is stagnant because everything it contains is so patently obvious, it is redundant to even _say_ it is obvious, and the poor teacher who enlightens us to the radiation of the obvious requires a textbook stating the obvious to do so."

Caelana shook her head solemnly. "That, Nevana, was in all honesty the most inaccurate description I have ever heard of Muggle Studies." She paused. "You forgot to mention how the teacher was an evil old witch with special occult spectacles that allow her to view and worship the obvious."

Nevana laughed. "True. Seriously, though, I have learned more about Muggles just by picking up some of their novels from a random bookstore."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Caelana replied glumly. "You read any Shakespeare?"

She nodded. "Have you read _Hamlet_? It was one of my favorites."

Caelana stared. "Um, yes, but . . . To be perfectly honest, I found it hard to believe that a story where _everyone_ _died_ could be so horribly . . . _boring_."

"Well, yeah," conceded Nevana. "It was pretty boring until the last scene, but I thought the numerous deaths made up for all that."

"Not for me. I liked _Romeo and Juliet_ better," she said stoutly.

"I thought that was just okay. Still, we can agree that tragedies make the best stories, right?" offered Nevana.

"Right," Caelana agreed. Returning her gaze to the Hogsmeade street, she suddenly spotted the ice cream store further ahead. "Ooo! You want to get ice cream, Nevana? Look, they even have your favorite, strawberry chip!"

"How do you know that's my favorite?" she asked good-naturedly. 

"I—" Caelana's footsteps stopped abruptly as the entirely innocent question struck her. "I . . . don't know," she said slowly.

* * *

"Sorry I'm late," Nevana panted, hurrying over to the library table where Caelana was less than patiently waiting. "I somehow managed to mess up the recipe for the potion we were making in class and my sample exploded. Seriously, I thought I would be given detention for the rest of my life, considering Snape looked ready to spit nails, but luckily the bell rang then so he only made me stay to clean up."

Caelana stared in disbelief for a few moments before shaking her head in amusement. "'Many that live deserve death,'" she quoted. "How did you on earth did you manage that?"

"'And some that die deserve life,'" finished Nevana. She shook her head. "I haven't the faintest idea. Speaking of which, I didn't know you read Tolkein."

"Yeah, but only the trilogy and _The Hobbit_. The other stuff was too . . . needlessly complicated for me."

"I'll have to agree as I've never tried them. The _Lord of the Rings_ was cool, though. It had an especially nice tragic ending, even if it could have happened fifty or so pages earlier."

"I suppose," said Caelana idly. "Where do you want to start with this project?"

Nevana shrugged. "I don't know. Shakespeare, maybe? You know, 'Oh, I am fortune's fool' and all that."

Caelana frowned. "Are you suggesting fate is predetermined or just in his works? Because he did write some other plays where he took the opposite viewpoint, you know. 'Men at some time are masters of their fate. The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves that we are underlings.'"

"Which one's that?" asked Nevana curiously.

"_Julius Caesar_."

"Oh, right!" she said brightly. "The guy who got stabbed in the chest like twenty-three times. Great authority on the subject of destiny."

"Are you implying something?"

"Not at all. The guy was almost directly forewarned of what they were planning and chose to ignore it. Nice way to take your destiny into your own hands."

"'Destiny is not a matter of chance; it is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for; it is a thing to be achieved,'" Caelana recited.

Nevana paused, obviously thinking hard. At last, she murmured, "I know that's not Shakespeare, but I don't know who said it." Looking up, she cracked a grin. "Feel like enlightening me?"

"It's William Jennings Bryant."

"Ah." There was silence for a few minutes before she asked hesitantly, "So what do you believe?"

"I think Caesar and Bryant are right and we have control of our own destiny," she replied evenly. "At any rate, it's a much more comforting thought than that everything is predetermined, not to mention an easier way to live your life."

"Hmm. So do you want to do our report from that angle?"

Caelana shook her head. "No. It's not a personal essay, remember? It's a research paper, and that means we need to show all sides of the debate."

"I suppose." Nevana sighed. "Well, ready to begin some mind-numbing, back-breaking research? I promise I'll do half."

"Ready, and thanks."

"No problem."

* * *

Caelana yawned as she prepared for bed. It was late, but it was worth it to have finished so much of the project. Uninterrupted, she and Nevana had mutually plowed through mountains of dry tomes to piece together several feet of notes, more than was most likely actually required for the writing of their papers. All that remained was for the two to organize their scattered notes into coherent essays and they were set. 

Blearily, Caelana pulled apart the hangings on her bed. Setting her glasses on the bureau, she flopped onto the mattress and pulled the covers up to her chin. Her last conscious thought was that she sure hoped Nevana had remembered to write down the books they had used, because she certainly hadn't.

The air was crisp in her mouth, and as she stood a chill wind swept over the grounds, whipping up her robes and freezing the very marrow of her bones. A light snow still lingered on the ground, but the slight girl didn't seem to notice. Her entire attention was focused on the space in front of her, where a circle of stones and a small mound of freshly dug earth rested.

Stepping softly forward, she knelt before the site, brushing the earth with a reverence that was plain in every fiber of her being. "Anadalia," she whispered, the hushed syllables lost in the wind. The hand touching the earth stilled, clenching into a fist as the clear hazel eyes closed in anguish. Tears fell like rain upon the earth, soaking the soil and the fabric of her flowing robes. After an agonizing eternity, they calmed, and this time when her eyes flickered open they appeared as icy orbs of pale crystal, oddly set among her reminiscently oriental features. 

Standing, the girl brushed her hair from her face as the wind blew harder, driving short strands into her frosty eyes. Seeming to contemplate the memorial for a few moments, she serenely drew her blade from its sheath upon her back. Somberly studying the metal with a grim precision, the steel flashed brightly as with one fluid movement she severed her waist long braid. 

Sheathing the blade again properly, she retrieved the braid, plaiting the silky loose tresses while ignoring her own chin length ebony locks. Tying them off with a white ribbon, she laid the woven craft within the stone ring and stepped back. Staring at the shrine one last time, she raised her now wet eyes to the sky, and, drawing out a leather thong on which a black feather was strung, she whispered, with an almost desperate intensity, "I will avenge you. You have my word." 

Then tying the strange talisman around her neck, she left the grounds, discarding her robes to reveal supple armor underneath as she went. Her eyes betrayed her, however. Fear resided in them, fear and a determination not to fail, despite any given cost.

Time seemed to fly forward. The mysterious girl brutally slew innumerable dragons, dancing a silvery pattern of death as her flashing blade flew in and out of their hearts. Her myriad triumphs, however, only seemed to further serve to vex and impel her. Every conflict left her more unsatisfied, more unsettled, gazing at the far horizon to only something she could see. 

She came back to visit the shrine once more. Her queue was gone, the bare white ribbon a tattered remain, but in its place was a isolated cluster of white blossoms: pure snow white lilies. This seemed to hearten the girl, as she smiled tremulously amid her freely flowing tears. Drawing a dagger from her boot, she cut one of the fragile blossoms and placed it behind her ear. Leaving the grounds, however, fatigue seemed to haunt her step and her eyes were dull to the world. They did not notice the raven that flew out of the woods and followed her.

Time once again flew forward. This time, however, only a few days seemed to pass before it slowed, capturing a desperate struggle between the girl and an enormous black dragon. This encounter was vastly different from her previous ones. Her features were dark with fury as she wove in and out of the creature's reach, and her eyes burned with anger. For once, she let go of her usual stony silence, flinging insults and dripping sarcasm at the beast, who in addition to being twice the size of her normal hunt seemed to have twice the temper, as her tail suddenly flashed out. 

Eyes widening, the girl leaped back, but the dragon breathed a wall of fire, ensnaring her. Furious, the girl whirled around defiantly to face the black monstrosity, and then screamed as the spikes tore through her eyes. Stumbling away, the girl struggled through her deteriorating vision to find a place to recover, but was left wanting as she was abruptly swept off her feet in a moment by one swing of the dragon's giant tail. 

Soaring in an high arc over the edge of the cliff, she fumbled with her belt pouch as she began plunging through the air toward the distant ocean far below her. Finding her wand at great length, she hurriedly muttered a few spells to restore her vision before hitting the crest of the murky water, thus facing death with open eyes. Sputtering for a few moments on the surface, she despaired as she continued to sink despite her efforts. 

As the blackness preceded to enter her brain amid the raven dragon's laughter, she murmured, "Anadalia, I'm sorry." 

Caelana woke with a gasp. Sitting up, she breathed heavily, taking in great gulps of air as she listened dimly to her feverishly racing heart. Shivers shook her body and she gradually became aware that she was completely drenched in an icy sweat. One urgent demand pierced all her bodily discomfort, however. 

Hand trembling, she gently felt her right eye. It burned as though she had touched it with fire. 

She let her hand fall to rest on the mattress, where it was rapidly joined by her torso as she laid down her head on the four-poster's all too soft pillow. Remembering her personal meditation techniques, she strained to make her breaths more even and deep against the panic that fought to rise up within her. Vainly trying to drift back to an elusive sleep, one thought continued to plague her. Who was Anadalia, and why did the name sound so familiar? 

* * *

"Wow, you look . . ." Nevana trailed off uncertainly.

"Terrible. Just say it," mumbled Caelana as she stumbled down the stairs to the Great Hall.

"You look _terrible_," she said with obvious relish. "What on earth happened?"

"Bad nightmares, and it doesn't help that I'm a chronic insomniac," she yawned, rubbing her still sensitive eyes in an attempt to wake up. "You know, it's weeks like this that I honestly wonder how I'll make it to Friday. Seriously, I normally lose so much energy during the week that I gradually become more and more ill as it goes on. By the time good ol' Friday finally actually rolls around, I'm practically dead on my feet. Now _this_ particular week . . . Well, let's just say I'll have to work to prevent that idiom from becoming a painful literal reality. Hmm . . . pleasant prospect, isn't it?"

Nevana stared. "Okay, that's it," she said finally. "_You_ are sitting _here_" – she firmly pushed Caelana down onto the bottom step – "and _I_ am going to go get us some food from the Great Hall. _You_ are definitely not going anywhere in _that_ pitiful state." Rubbing her hands together, she left, striding briskly down the hall as she muttered about playing counselor.

Too tired to take offense, Caelana simply sat mutely, her head in her hands, until Nevana returned about a quarter of an hour later with a stack of toast in her hands.

"Here," she said, handing her a piece.

Caelana took it, staring at it numbly.

"Eat," Nevana commanded firmly. She sat down beside her friend on the staircase, taking a piece of toast for herself. Inspecting it carefully, she took a big bite and began chewing eagerly before nibbling delicately at the crust. "Mmm . . . toast," she murmured, savoring the taste of the butter on her tongue. "Sorry if you wanted something different, but this is the only thing I could find to carry." 

She glanced over suddenly, noticing her friend looked ready to doze off right there. "Hey, we can't have you falling asleep!" she said amusedly, shaking her. Seeing Caelana almost immediately begin to nod off again, she sighed. "All right, I guess more desperate measures are needed. How about we engage in some wonderful guidance counselor talk?" She affected a reporter pose. "Where, Caelana, do _you_ see yourself in five years?"

"Asleep, dead, and buried," she mumbled, slurring her words together so badly as to almost make them unintelligible.

Not exactly the response she had hoped for, but, seeing as she clearly wasn't going to get a better one, Nevana decided to play along. "Hmm . . . Well, Caelana, you've chosen a difficult career path. You'll need at least an E at O.W.L. level in Herbology, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and, of course, Potions if you plan to sleep peacefully. How are you averaging in those classes?"

"E, A, A, O," she spit out automatically, looking cheered now that they had returned to a plane she could always comprehend, having long ago mastered it.

Nevana nearly dropped her now much diminished stack of toast. "_You_ have an O in _Potions_?" 

Caelana nodded wearily. "Think so. Not sure, but Snape never manages to criticize me so . . ."

Nevana gaped at her new friend. "Wow. I never knew anyone actually ever did that well. I thought Snape had made up that rule so he wouldn't have to teach us past fifth year."

"Guess again." The toast now forsaken, she laid her head on her knees, looking sleepily over at Nevana. "So what do you want to do?"

Shaking her head much like a preening bird to clear it, Nevana slowly answered, "I don't really know. You know what I always thought would be cool, though? I always wanted to work with dragons. Study them, train them . . . You know what I mean?"

Unbidden, an image of an enormous black dragon laughing came into her mind.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," she replied, unable to suppress a shudder.

* * *

Caelana packed her materials into her knapsack with unnecessary precision as she waited for the room to clear. She didn't have to wait long. No one in their right minds wanted to be spend more time than absolutely required in Binns's stuffy classroom. Nonetheless, she hung around, hesitating at her ancient desk as she wavered between simply leaving or asking a question to which she desperately wanted an answer. She _had_ to know, however, and so, before she could lose her nerve, she strode up to where the pearly ghost hovered in front of the blackboard, awaiting his next class. "Professor Binns?"

He turned bleary eyes upon her. "Yes, Miss Dickinson?"

Not bothering to correct him, she continued, "I wanted to ask you: is there any history of a young girl who, uh, slew dragons around the, uh, eleventh or twelfth century?"

He peered at her dimly. "I believe you are referring to Lusitania Dragonsbane?"

"Um, yes, of course," she stuttered hurriedly. "Wh-what can you tell me about her?"

His sight seemed to turn inward as he dully intoned, "Little is known about the Lusitania of the eleventh century. She is called Dragonsbane, however, because, according to legend, at the age of fifteen, she slew over forty dragons in two successive months. She disappeared from record soon afterward, and was discovered again only as a battered corpse washed up upon a remote shore, identifiable only by her recovered hallmark sword and talisman, which were found further down the shore. Though drowning is quite probable, the actual cause of her death was never determined."

Caelana suddenly felt faint. "Do . . . do the legends say why she went on a rampage and killed all those dragons?" she asked distantly, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"It is believed one of the fabled Ancient dragons killed her best friend," he responded in surprise.

There was silence for several moments as Caelana absorbed this new information. "I . . . see," she answered finally, disturbingly clear images of a somber young girl kneeling at a unmarked grave flashing through her mind. She shouldered her bag uncomfortably. "Thanks, Professor Binns," she blurted as the bell rang and she hastily ran from the classroom. 

Her speed couldn't forestall the revelation reaching her, however. Nor could it save her from the shadows of the night that haunted her. 

* * *

"So, then from this diagram, we can conclude the unknown variable in the chart is seven, thus allowing us to plug it into the equation we wrote earlier using Gandylion's Theorem—"

Caelana groaned as Professor Vector continued to ramble on and on, squealing with excitement at random intervals. She wouldn't have minded it so much if they hadn't only been going over homework they had done the previous night, homework that she had perfectly understood and half the class hadn't. As another painfully simple equation was explained in excruciating detail, she hung her head in silent despair. After Fridays, she decided, Tuesdays were _definitely_ the worst day of the week.

Nearly bored to tears as she sat quietly at her desk, she was suddenly startled as, without warning, a curiously wet sensation met her ink-smudged fingertips on the parchment. Lifting her hand slowly, she watched in amazement as blue letters blossomed on the surface of the paper. 

_Bored, huh?_

Glancing surreptitiously over her shoulder behind her, she thought she saw Nevana give her a small wink out of the corner of her eye.

Furious, she wrote underneath the already fading letters. _Yes, but don't you think she'll notice if we keep writing on our parchment without ever once looking up at her?!?_

Yeah, but I doubt she'll care. There's too many other struggling students for her to pay too much attention to us, who clearly get what she's attempting to teach. She'll just fling a random problem at us every now and then to make sure we really get it. Like . . . now.

"Caelana, what is the answer to problem forty-two?" Professor Vector asked suddenly.

Startled, Caelana hurriedly glanced down at her paper. "Three x plus the square root of twenty-eight over nine pi," she stuttered.

Professor Vector smiled. "Correct." She glanced around the classroom. "Now did anyone not get that answer?" Hands shot up. "All right, we'll do it on the board. Now this equation is quite simple if you take it slowly with the proper mindset." Within moments, she was back into her usual feverish teaching stupor. 

Glancing down again at her paper, Caelana quickly read. _Guess she never heard that forty-two was the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything._

What?

Never mind. But see? I was right.

Yeah, you were. How did you know she would ask me right then, though?

I'm psychic.

Riiiiiiight. No, really, how did you know?

Oh, she had this look in her eye. You can just tell after awhile when they're deliberately trying to catch you off guard. Seriously, though, I did used to take Divination.

Really? Why'd you quit?

Because, hands down, Trelawney's the biggest, most outrageous fraud I've ever met. She creeped me out, too.

Why?

Because the moment I walked into the classroom, she went all crazy and started predicting my death in gruesome detail . . . before I would even leave Hogwarts.

Hmm . . . interesting. How'd she say you would die? Dark wizard attack? Terrible classroom accident? Pure boredom?

Um, actually, I think she was describing my decapitation by a dragon, but it was kind of hard for her to be articulate through all the spit that was flying out of her mouth.

Eww . . . I can see why you switched to Care of Magical Creatures. I still don't get the thing about forty-two, though.

Oh. Well, you see, it all starts with me picking up this paperback novel at a Muggle bookstore titled the _Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ _. . . _

* * *

It was with a certain dread that Caelana pulled on her nightclothes that evening. True, she had spent the previous one free of mystical visions of youthful legends, but she had also been plagued by nightmarish horrors that crept out of the shadows, transforming in the dim moonlight into monstrous, fiery dragons. 

It came as no surprise to her that every morning she awoke with deeper circles under her eyes. After all, she hardly expected to receive any rest at all tonight, either. It was as if sleeping was something she did purely out of old habit and not of necessity.

Surprisingly, though, she fell asleep almost the moment her head touched the pillow, without even having removed her glasses. And thus she dreamed.

She was flying, flying high over the Hogwarts grounds, but as she looked down on them, slight creases appeared in her forehead. Something was not right. The grounds were far smaller than they should be, for one thing, and the usually enormous castle seemed to be almost swallowed by the vast expanse of the Forbidden Forest, which encircled it. Furthermore, light snow dusted the trees and boulders, when she knew for a fact that all of it had melted at the beginning of April. As she puzzled over these curious irregularities, her attention was suddenly drawn to a pair walking along the edge of the lake. 

One of them laughed readily, a resonance that hung in the air and twinkled gently like an array of stars. The voice itself belonged to a lithe girl with tangled blond hair that cupped and sometimes obscured her face. She was feeding a raven that resided on her wrist with her other hand while a all too familiar girl looked on in amusement.

"But, Anadalia," she implored, "how on earth do you get the ravens to come at your call? Furthermore, how can you get them to eat chocolate covered strawberries no less?"

Anadalia merely laughed again. "Ravens just like me, Lusitania,. You know that. Besides, _everyone_ likes chocolate covered strawberries!"

"Speak for yourself," muttered Lusitania under her breath. "Humph. See if I cry when Miss Raven Shadow goes to an early grave. That's what Cassandra says they mean, you know. _I_ think it's a punishment for wasting your poor mother's money like that."

"Oh, lighten up, Lus! If anything, I'm staying alive _because_ they love my treats so much! Sure, it's horrendously expensive to travel across the ocean when there's so little civilization over there as of yet, and _sure_ it's dangerous to try to pick cacao beans without the natives attacking, and _sure_ it takes a couple days of rest to recover from Apparating such a distance; but isn't it all worth it in the end?" 

"If you _like_ chocolate," she replied. "I'll take my fancy imported strawberries plain, thank you very much. And I thought I told you not to call me Lus!"

Anadalia sighed mock-heavily. "I guess you just don't appreciate the finer things of life, Lusi," she said loftily, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she turned to imperiously face her friend. "In the entire week I've known you, white lilies are the _only_ instance where you display a _hint_ of _my_ exquisite taste."

"Keep putting on airs like that and I might change my mind," she threatened, though a note of teasing was present in her voice.

They looked at each other and began giggling madly, snorting in a quite unladylike fashion as they attempted to curtail their laughter. Their mirth ended of its own accord, however, as a roar of noise erupted in front of them.

"What was that?" Anadalia whispered anxiously, abruptly sending her raven flying with a jerk of her arm.

"I don't know, but it came from the Forbidden Forest," muttered Lusitania, watching the trees apprehensively. "Look, we're pretty far out. We should probably head back."

"Agreed," said Anadalia in a small voice.

They both hurried up the path, but they had scarcely moved thirty paces when there was an enormous crash behind them. Whirling around, their eyes widened as they came face to face with an colossal beast they had read about only in textbooks. 

"That's . . . a dragon," said Anadalia weakly, as the creature's eyes slid over to where they stood frozen in shock, apparently sizing them up. Seemingly satisfied, it opened its mouth in anticipation. The movement brought the girls rudely back to their senses.

"Run!" screamed Lusitania, grabbing Anadalia's hand and dashing down the path.

The ebony dragon seemed startled by their sudden flight for a moment, but then it clacked its teeth as if delighted at such a challenge and tore after them with a vengeance. 

Panting heavily, the duo ran toward the castle at an impossible speed, adrenaline coursing through their systems as they struggled to escape the eagerly following creature. Their grip on each other was broken, however, as all at once Anadalia trod heavily on a hidden patch of ice and slipped.

"Anadalia!" Lusitana cried, skidding to an almost immediate halt and kneeling beside her friend. "Are you okay? Come on, you've got to get up!" She yanked the girl unsteadily to her feet.

Anadalia's attention wasn't on her, however. "Lusitania, look out!" she shrieked, frantically shoving her with enough force that she was knocked off the path and sent rolling down the incline into the hollow below. 

Coming to a jarring stop, Lusitania hastily recovered from her impromptu somersault. Slightly dazed, she searched wildly for her friend among the rapidly swirling blur of colors, cursing as her eyes refused to focus on one area. All she could make out was a vague black smear, an entirely meaningless stream of flickering orange that shot through the water toward a oddly familiar figure. . .

Her vision cleared in just enough time to see Anadalia burst into flames.

Twin screams of horror and pain rent the air, over which a chorus of "_Stupefy_!" was barely audible. The crimson lighting swiftly flew through the sky, but it was poorly aimed and was too late; the dragon fled alive. The same could not be said for Lusitania's only friend.

And thus she swore revenge.

Caelana laid awake in bed for a indefinite period of time, simply shivering, and, occasionally, sobbing . The fact that she had known what was coming had not made witnessing the reality any easier. Her heart went out to the poor girl whose tragic image haunted her dreams, though she could not fathom why.

As she drifted uneasily back to sleep, she could not shake the forboding feeling she would find out all too soon.

* * *

Caelana struggled to keep alert at her prefects' meeting the following evening. After three nights with minimal sleep and an exhausting day including Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology, she considered it a miracle her eyes were still open.

This phenomenon was brought into question when darkness suddenly enveloped her vision.

"Guess who!" demanded a mysterious voice.

Caelana frowned. "Nevana?" she asked incredulously.

Removing her hands, Nevana placed them on her hips. "The one and only," she announced cheerfully.

Caelana strained to see her out of the corner of her eye. "What are you doing here?"

What she could see of Nevana gawked at her. "Um, I'm the Ravenclaw prefect. You know, the girl who's been coming here? Every Wednesday? For the entire year?" As Caelana continued to stare blankly, she sighed. "You know, you weren't kidding when you said you lost your energy as the week went on. I can't imagine what you'll look like on Friday if this keeps up."

"Slightly better than a corpse," she muttered quietly as the Head Boy and Girl strode to the front of the room. 

"Attention, please, everyone!" he called from his stance on the platform. "We have two very important pieces of information to pass on to you." He waited patiently as the noise gradually diminished to silence, before clearing his throat and continuing, "First off, the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. examinations are to begin in three weeks, so please attempt to control the volume level in your common rooms as several students are trying to study. All of you know, or are about to realize, just how crucially important that rare silence is. Secondly and most seriously, an as of yet unidentified creature has recently taken refuge in the Forbidden Forest. Until Hagrid determines exactly what it is, please advise your peers to take special precautions to avoid the borderline of the area and especially to not enter its interior. That is all."

Silence reigned for a few moments as he left the platform and started conferring quietly with the Head Girl. Then whispers broke out like a hiss of steam among the prefects.

"I wonder what it could be," murmured Caelana quietly.

"Probably just some whacked-out troll that lost his way," pronounced Nevana dispassionately. Yet something in her tone didn't fit her words. Before Caelana could determine what it was, however, Nevana interrupted eagerly, "By the way, what do you think of my hair? I cut it myself yesterday."

A trite compliment already on her lips, Caelana turned to face her. "You look—"

Her breath caught in her throat. As Nevana tossed her permanently face-clinging hair over her shoulder and smiled, a lithe blond image flickered before her view—

—twin pairs of liquid brown eyes matching exactly.

"Stunning," she finally squeaked. "You look stunning."

* * *

Caelana lingered after Nevana in the library later that evening. They'd finished their Muggle Studies project – an entire day early, though that was hardly a relief considering their workload in their other classes – but there was something else she wanted to find.

Pulling an hefty text off the middle shelf, she heaved the archaic treatise onto their table. Barely acknowledging the cover _Ancient Dragons and their Histories_, she rapidly flipped through the pages, stopping finally on an entry she knew with a terrible certainty would be there.

Bolduney;

Perhaps the most striking in appearance of the eight original Ancients, this dragon was renown as a fearsome fighter. A glittering mass of steely sinew, she was fabled to have killed over two thousand foolhardy wanderers and warriors before her mysterious disappearance in the fourteenth century. Nevertheless, her carcass was never discovered, and rumors of her continued existence persist to this day. The last proposed sighting of her was somewhere in Great Britain.

Caelana stared unseeingly at the short passage for a few pregnant moments, as though willing it to disappear into oblivion and never return. Then, with trembling fingers, she slowly turned the weathered page to reveal the accompanying illustration.

It displayed a sinister black dragon.

* * *

Caelana grappled desperately with her constantly drifting attention in class the following day to no avail. Despite her best efforts, she nervously nibbled continuously on her fingernails – a nasty habit she'd only picked up that very day – as she agitatedly tried to decide whether or not she should tell Nevana of her suspicions. Assuming if she could ever figure out a way to say it without sounding completely loony, that is. So far, the best thing she had come up with was, "You know, Nevana, I've been having some strange visions of these two dead people of late and I was just thinking that we just might possibly be their reincarnations. Oh, and, by the way, you know that mysterious creature out there in the Forbidden Forest? Turns out it's a thousand-year-old dragon queen who's out to kill us." 

Yes, it was a marked improvement on her original message: "It's coming to get us because we tried to kill it hundreds of years ago in our past lives!" Still, it did lack a certain feasibility factor.

As she proceeded to chew on her fingernails, the professor's ongoing lecture pierced her feverish deliberation. "One of the most embarrassing traps you must avoid on your O.W.L.s are the pairs of runes that, while are spelled similarly, have entirely different meanings. Take for instance, 'xanzu' and 'zanxu.' The former means 'friend.' The latter means 'ritual suicide.'" He paused as he waited for the nonexistent laughter to die down. "See how much the placement of the syllables can matter? Mistranslating a single rune can throw off the rest of your reading, and that is why you must pay particular attention to these pairs. In addition—"

Caelana gradually tuned him out again as he began to go on about the need for meticulousness in the drawing of the strokes of runes.

'Friend' and 'ritual suicide,' huh?

Strange how they could seem similar in more than one place at a time. 

* * *

Caelana frowned deeply as she left the Great Hall. Nevana had been conspicuously absent from dinner, a meal she normally delighted in. While this had saved her personally from any possibly awkward conversation – or lack thereof – it was completely contrary to her friend's nature to miss any such repast, and thus Caelana had left early to search for her. As she roamed the floor, however, a sneaking suspicion that she wouldn't find her by wandering the hallways began to form in the back of her mind.

She was about ready to give up and head back to the Hufflepuff common room (for some possible cramming before bed) when she heard muffled voices conferring anxiously behind a classroom door. Wavering for a few moments between her immediate inclination to eavesdrop and her sensible side telling her it was none of her business – and probably boring anyway – she gently pressed an ear to the door. 

Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick were speaking in hushed tones, as though they very dearly wished to keep this conversation private.

"So Hagrid's absolutely sure?" Her voice was anxious, worried.

"Yes, he's positive," he replied, his voice full of grim awareness.

"But how did a dragon slip onto the grounds undetected? We have wards against that, crafted by the Four Founders themselves!"

"Even the Four Founders didn't possess enough magical talent to forge a barrier able to deter the Ancient dragons."

"The Ancient dragons? But they're all gone! Dead!"

"Correction: they've all _vanished_. Most of them were found dead, but a few were simply never seen again. Think about it, Sprout. Dragons can live hundreds of centuries. Many of them are probably still out there, just biding their time."

"But why'd it show up _here_ of all places?" she asked frantically.

"Hagrid isn't sure, but he thinks that the creature might have been attracted to something within the school. The Ancients were accustomed to eating wizardry in those days, you know. Still, I have to wonder just what would have caught its attention. You see—"

Caelana didn't listen any longer. Straightening up, she strode determinedly down the hall toward her common room, abandoning her now unnecessary search.

She knew where Nevana had gone.

Because she knew where she was going.

* * *

Staring at her watch as though willing it to move faster, Caelana waited impatiently in the Hufflepuff common room. She had no idea when Nevana had left, but she herself would have to wait until her gabbling classmates finally decided they needed sleep to survive. Sighing, she twirled her wand idly, trying to focus on it instead of the thoughts churning in her mind.

Secretly, she'd always wondered why she'd been placed in Hufflepuff. She worked hard, yes, but no more than anyone else, and only when it was required. On the other hand, she nearly always did as well in her classes as Nevana, who was considered truly exceptional even for Ravenclaw. Why hadn't been placed in Ravenclaw too?

She smiled sadly. All those years, she had completely forgotten the other quality for which the Hufflepuff house was widely renown: loyalty. Fierce, unalterable loyalty, like that of a badger protecting her young. 

Or her best friend in this matter.

She watched the last person leave the room with a sort of grim finality and stood. This was the moment she had lived for. She needed to get going. 

* * * 

Pulling back a branch, Caelana stumbled as she made her way deeper into the Forbidden Forest. Holding her lighted wand aloft, she realized she had caught her foot on a protruding tree root. With a irritated sigh, she disentangled it. There were much more important matters to attend to at the moment. Like finding Nevana, for one.

A owl hooted nearby and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Taking several deep breaths in rapid succession, she tried to calm herself. Nonetheless, niggling little doubts began to grow in her mind. Was she absolutely sure about this? Would she actually be able to go through with everything once she found Nevana? Could she really and truly fight a dragon centuries older than her, that had already killed her once? She shook her head. Scolding herself mentally for having such thoughts and chiding herself once again to focus, she proceeded to blaze a scenic nature trail through the woods, a large, fearful lump beginning to swell and stick in her throat.

She was growing desperate when a flicker on the edge of her vision caught her eye. It was near the very border of the forest, where the strange, gnarled trees abruptly ended and the towering mountains began. Approaching the area cautiously, she gradually managed to distinguish a swath of slightly deeper darkness, which she supposed must be the entrance to a cave. Far easier to make out was the sight of Nevana sitting in front of it.

No, sitting was not entirely correct, she realized as she drew closer. She was kneeling, sitting atop her folded feet in a manner Caelana would have described as painful. Nevana looked quite peaceful, however. Her eyes were closed and her hands were folded calmly in her lap, her left hand on top of her right, which was limply holding her wand. The wand itself was currently glowing a faint blue, fringed with small snaking strands that flickered in and out of existence like flames. As she examined the aura, one of the strands slowly stretched out, becoming thinner and thinner as it grew longer and longer. Finally, it broke off, and twisting itself into a rope, laid gleaming on the ground. It was then Caelana's mind registered what her friend was doing.

She was casting a spell.

_But how? _Caelana asked herself furiously. She wasn't waving her wand or muttering incantations or anything! How could she just sit there and craft a spell at her leisure? 

Unbidden, a memory came into her mind. _With magic, sometimes, just sometimes, you can make your wishes come true, if only you wish for them hard enough._ Startled, Caelana shook her head. Who had on earth had told her that? It sounded like something you read in one of those cheap fairy tale novels for little children. And still . . . 

Placing her feet as softly on the soil as possible, she knelt to the right of Nevana. Imitating her position, she began to concentrate on simply breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Now slower . . . and slower . . . 

Reaching out slowly with her senses, she visualized Nevana's flickering aura. The twisted blue grid materializing in her mind, she dove into it without a second thought. Pushing the upper layers to the side, she rapidly swam deeper into the spell, trying to determine its intent. The result didn't surprise her. 

Nevana had carefully crafted her magic to link herself to Bolduney.

She was going to take the Ancient dragon out with her.

Sighing as she opened her eyes, Caelana surveyed the scene. It was still dark, though she gauged it to be well past midnight. Shifting her feet uncomfortably, she examined her friend in the moonlight. Her eyes were still closed and she seemed oblivious to the world, but her face, the line of her mouth were set. 

She would not back down from this course.

Shaking her head at her old friend's stubbornness, Caelana closed her eyes once more. She had been prepared for this, had spent the hours waiting in the common room preparing. She knew what she wanted to do, and she was going to do it. 

Focusing the entirety of her attention on Nevana's spell, she carefully began weaving another spell within it. In and out the glittering magic flew, like a small child lacing up his first pair of shoes. She used a white skein of amnesia first in order to remove their memories from the minds of those who knew them; a far coarser thread of oblivion was also spun to take care all of their physical evidence as well; and, biting her lip in intense deliberation, for her last work she inserted a strand of purest gold, which she left curiously undefined, that bound her to both Nevana and Bolduney.

Finished, she opened her eyes, observing at once that the near featureless sky was now far lighter. Daybreak, and the dragon's wake from slumber, were near. Regardless, she smiled, and in defiance of the reigning silence whispered, "Somehow, I always knew it would be a Friday."

A faint stirring to her left caught her attention. Immediately, her focus returned, and she aloofly studied her friend as she slowly dragged herself out of her meditative state and into the present. Blinking a couple times, Nevana methodically examined her grid with a sort of detached expression for a short interval, nodding every couple of moments as she tested the layers of the spell. Then without warning her eyes widened and she swiveled her head around. 

"Caelana?" she asked in disbelief as her vision latched onto her.

The corners of her mouth twitched. "The one and only," she replied.

Nevana just stood there gaping, occasionally sputtering incoherently, "You? But how? Why?" Her mouth suddenly closed as her eyes grew sad. In a quiet voice, she said, "You remember, don't you?"

Without response, Caelana stood up and reached out her hand to Nevana. Pulling her friend to her feet, she carefully drew Nevana's hand to her heart. "This time," she whispered, "I won't let go of your hand."

Eyes shining oddly, Nevana swallowed. "You ready?" she inquired hoarsely.

Smiling sadly, Caelana nodded.

They pulled their threads at the same time.

* * *

__

Forgive me, Nevana, for coming after you. I couldn't bear to go through that trial again.

Don't worry, we'll transcend time once more. I'm sure of it.

And when that happens, we'll subsist for most of our lives,

But, eventually, we'll manage to find each other,

And then,

We'll become friends again . . . 

* * *

In minute degrees as if in a trance, Dumbledore sat down, quite overcome with emotion as he watched the smoky moving picture one of his more curious silver instruments presented. Placing one trembling hand by his Pensieve, he strained to call a memory to the surface as the knowledge was abruptly siphoned from his brain. Panicking, he hastily scribbled the names Caelana Dirndl and Nevana Hitori on a piece of scrap parchment and his own hand. The parchment vanished instantly, but the ink remained glistening on his flesh.

Greatly relieved, he exhaled slowly. "Brilliant," he whispered. "Quite impressive, Miss Dirndl. Living factors are always harder to manipulate, but you managed fairly well. Astounding for a fifth year student . . ."

Somberly, he surveyed his Pensieve, where now all his remaining memories of the two students resided. Running through them, he felt his eyes growing misty. "Of course, then again, you two were always too good for Hogwarts . . ."

Dumbledore knew he would have to meet with Cornelius Fudge in half an hour, and he knew he could hardly be weak for the Minister of Magic, who so heavily relied on him. He knew he would have to appear strong for the world, an eternal, but, false illusion since he had been forced to present ever since he had defeated Grindelwald. He knew that wise men are supposed to accept the injustices of the world with resignation and hardly more than a blink of an eye. 

But he also knew he was human, and he wept.

* * * 

_And yet still they dare to hope, _

That there may one day be an end,

Where their destiny is overcome . . .

And they may just be friends . . .


End file.
